


Muinín Dom

by Fallowfield



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet?, Blackwatch, F/F, Retribution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:40:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowfield/pseuds/Fallowfield
Summary: After the attack on the Overwatch base, Angela suffers from a deep sense of foreboding about the Venice mission.





	Muinín Dom

Now, Angela was always the most difficult to fool. She had been around the block and could read Jack’s face like a book. He was never as steely as he would have hoped. It had grown even more sullen since the night of the explosion. His typical dark circles expanded and the developing wrinkle between his brows deepened. She knew that more had been discussed without her in murmuring voices.

Angela had jokingly told herself that it had been a mistake on her part to become too valuable an asset to waste in the field. She was best needed in the lab or in the media room. Now the details of their action plans were rarely discussed in her presence. She felt constantly deceived and out of shape. So she crossed her arms.

“Do I have to get to ordering more supplies now? Erecting more cots? You know I have only now vacated most of them.”

The broken glass resounded again every time she shut her eyes. A warm golden light engulfed her but rapidly exploded into flames. It was strange floating above everybody like that, like she was watching some sort of production, just tied to reality by that narrow beam of light. Her thoughts usually were very vocal and analytical, but they were silent in that moment, as if she were underwater. Especially through her gas mask. All she could do was maintain the healing stream as long as her reserves allowed and watch the small shapes of the rescuers working below, moving through the smoke.

Her first thought had been Moira. And. That shocked her. She hadn’t thought of any particular person as catastrophe struck, their image glowing in her eyelids before the vision slowly returned, for many years. But oh God. Where was she? Was she in their meeting? Oh God. But Angela had had no time to dwell beyond that.

But one thing she had seen from above was Reyes corner Morrison with the stride he takes, pointed and intent, when he’s overcome with emotion. Once you know Gabe, though, the fear his force instills melts away. His eyes betray his concern; his voice cracks at the edges; his nails scratch at his cuticles. Even from here where those details did not convey, she could see it in his movement. He was pleading, even if his voice sounded harsh. 

And there was Jack’s usual huff, his attempt at remaining hardened, but it always thawed for Gabe, and quite messily. And Gabe had come to expect it. She could see his resolve fade from there. But she didn’t hear what they said, and she stayed aloft, pretending not to have seen.

That was why she was after him now. She watched as Jack stood back, knowing what she was doing. Even after all these years he was intimidated by the fire in this woman. He sighed. He felt like he was afraid of everyone. “....No. we can’t....officially respond.” His face twisted, knowing that he couldn’t hide the implication hiding there.

A lightning bolt struck Angela as she understood, then twirled on her heel and rapidly stalked away. Jack rested his face in his hand.

x-x-x-x-x

The first night that had allowed for her to sleep on her own bed again came nearly a week after the incident. The days of replacing bandages and keeping victims stable felt as if it had eroded her away. She was so exhausted, but knew she was going to have trouble falling asleep. The spectre of her dark apartment unsettled her. It was too silent, like the moment before the explosion.

So she did the only thing she could think to do. Angela woke up in the grey hours, before the sun appeared. Their limbs were woven together, and she could feel soft breaths against her brow. The silence was subdued by the sounds of life humming in the body next to her. She could feel the exhaustion in the heartbeat, but it kept tumbling along. It eased her own aching.

Angela tangled her hands into Moira’s hair. The flames let her touch them, kissing her fingers. The other woman stirred, humming, but didn’t awaken. Angela could see her faint freckles, her smudged eyeliner. Moira had a bad habit of forgetting to take it off. A lock of her hair had twirled into the cowlick that she always had in the morning.

Angela didn’t want to disturb her. She knew Moira was exhausted too, in that fatigue unique to medics who had run on adrenaline for so long, who’d seen so much loss. Even though the attack was over, as well as most of the aftermath, Angela still felt an inky fear settling in her stomach, seeking to say that the nightmare wasn’t finished with her yet.

Something about Moira’s demeanor the night before unsettled her. It wasn’t personal, but Angela could tell there was a grey cloud behind her eyes. The general despondency of the clinic could be worn away with body warmth, but this ghost seemed more….existential. More of a monologue, a great tearing, than the familiar steely medical fatigue. But Moira was never one to confide. Just give her time. Something in her movements informs organically, like cresting waves on the sand.

Angela sighed. How she wished for peace, but every time a stride was made, the chaos took two more. She gingerly unraveled herself from her companion and slipped out of the sheets. Usually she used her morning insomnia for tea and light reading, but instead of donning her robe and slippers, she untucked the sleeves of her lab coat and put it on.

Now to investigate.

She hadn’t even tried with Moira. That woman had the perfect poker face. Even in the throes of great pain or pleasure, she never revealed anything more than necessary. It was meant to aid more than hinder, Angela knew. Information was power, but it was also liability. Moira didn’t want to burden anyone. She always belittled the heavy thoughts she carried, which was a fact that surprised Angela, who had only before seen her arrogance. The two of them were too familiar to be so formal about their work, but Moira was always reserved about what she did in the dark. She was a paradox. She would boast, but somehow her opponents never knew what she had in her hand.

x-x-x-x-x

Angela knew that Genji wouldn’t enlighten her, but he was the only one ever awake at this hour. When she found him at the highest point of the base, he offered a flat glare, clearly wishing his location had been less predictable. She sat a respectful distance away, sliding her legs through the railing so they dangled below her. The ocean wind could reach up here, vaulting itself up above the concrete walls. It buffeted her face, the salt spray scratching her skin. The sky was a dark spiral, grey clouds coiling, as if it was ready to lift her up and cast her into the center.

She knew not to expect Genji to speak first. He continued to gaze out at how minuscule the waves became as they tumbled at the horizon, turning his face away from her after she looked over at him. She could tell he was irritatedly awaiting her comment.

Angela opened her mouth. “Do y-“

“No.”

His response was sudden, but its harshness was leeched out of it, so it had the timbre of charcoal. The intense, pained exhaustion made itself known, though he tried to hide it anyway.

Angela turned her head again. She’d already known his answer, but something had made her want to come up here, this place that was rarely silent or still but so consistent it was calm.

Genji was the opposite of her. He didn’t want to know. He made an effort to not know. She was in awe of that consignment, but she knew he also wanted to divorce himself personally from anything that happened. She glanced to the side again. His eyes continued to stare out into the distance, like he was willing himself to dissipate with the spray and fall into the sea. A wall of oblivion was constructed in front of him and he looked directly into it. He never shut his eyes at the blackness anymore, but he rarely saw past it.

Angela knew she wasn’t welcome in his contemplation. She couldn’t quell the darkness for him, and she would even admit how her hands had spread ink too. As somebody who spent her time fighting, or more often fleeing from, the darkness, she found his willingness to let it swallow him impressive. So she quietly collected her limbs, stood, and returned to the med bay.

x-x-x-x-x

“Howdy Ang.” Jesse emptied the sixth round from his Peacekeeper, then, with a practiced hand, snapped open the chamber, let the cases clatter to the ground, and replaced them, sending the chamber spinning back into place. It was a mechanical motion, where he aligned his shot quickly and precisely, then cycled through the reloading process as if he could in his sleep. The revolver dully glinted in the fluorescent lights. Jesse took care of it like it was alive and breathing, with more attention than he paid to himself.

Angela approached him and looked across the range. The target was pierced by all six bullets, arranged nearly perfectly around the center. Angela lightly feigned applause and he grunted, smirking. “‘S not outta the ordinary.”

“You’re an expert, as always.” She smiled sweetly and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes following him. If anyone in Blackwatch was going to disclose anything to her, it was going to be Jesse. He was undyingly loyal to these missions, but his trust for his surrogate family was so great, he’d generally let facts slip to people like her or Ana. She hoped he would, anyway.

Jesse regarded her sideways, toying with the revolver, one side of his mouth turning up. “Now Angela, yer not bein’ very subtle. You never come ‘round the range anymore, and I’ve known you long enough to know when yer trying to get something outta me.”

Angela pursed her lips, her sugary façade fading and darkening. In fact, she was quite embarrassed, like she was a child playing games. “Damn. Am I that obvious?”

He laughed at her rapid change in character. “‘M not as dumb as I look.” He strummed at the brim of his hat with his gloved thumb. “But what’re you on the hunt for this time?”

“Oh, I was just concerned about what Blackwatch is planning.” Her eyes glinted. She had to convince herself it was only curiosity and not an intuitive, creeping fear.

“Ah, Ang, I’m sure you’d be a great asset, but ‘t’s up to Reyes, you know?” Jesse shrugged somewhat, setting aside the revolver.

She sighed and nodded. “You’re right. But….” She paused and bit the inside of her cheek. The darkness always flooded back so fast. It was clear to her that it showed on her face, as she watched Jesse’s expression soften, concerned. “I just know they’re planning something. And nobody bothers to tell me. But I have a really bad feeling about it.”

Jesse tilted his head to one side. “A bad feeling? That it’s dangerous?” He was a rather roughly hewn person, but he always cared to see where everyone was coming from.

“No, worse than usual. Like something terrible is about to happen.” Angela clasped her hands together anxiously and stared down at her shoes.

“Aw, Ang….” Jesse stepped towards her and set a hand on her shoulder. “We always take care of it, though.”

“I need to know how to prepare the infirmary for this, and you know I’m a skilled enough researcher to be able to figure out the plan eventually.” She seemed tearful for a moment, but then she lifted her chin defiantly.

Jesse sighed and scuffed his boot on the floor. “I reckon yer right. I know nothin’ll stop ya.” He stared at her for a moment, and his voice weakened. “....we’re goin’ to Venice. To arrest Antonio. That’s all I really know.”

Angela bit her lip, processing the information. She looked solemn for a moment, then smiled at him. “Thank you, Jesse.” And she walked off.

x-x-x-x-x

Reyes was leaning back in his chair, deep in thought. Angela felt bad disturbing him. He looked like he had been carved there, a somber thoughtful statue. She wondered how long he had been here. 

She stepped inside the room. A singular footstep.

“There’s a reason you’re not in Blackwatch, Ziegler.”

Reyes was right. There was a reason Angela wasn’t the medic for the covert operations. Angela was made out of platinum, strong and durable, but luxe and impossibly bright. She would appear as a gleaming star returned to earth when the operations were meant to be clandestine. 

“Why’re you harassing my team anyways? You don’t believe Moira can cover it?”

Angela bit her lip. She knew Moira would do the job effectively, as she always does. “I don’t think that’s the issue. I know she is very capable. I just….would like to better know how to prepare.” What she said wasn’t untrue. She just knew the spark of worry inside her was more personal.

Reyes turned to look at her. He knew it too. After their eyes met, he sighed. “You’d think it gets easier as time goes on. Know procedure like the back of my hand. Can shoot without hesitating. But.” He shrugged. “Must be getting old. So cynical but so…. _sentimental._ ”

Reyes had read her as easily as she’d read Jack. He almost smiled. “Glad to have your support, Ziegler. But it’s just the four of us going. No need for you to plan any huge changes to your schedule.”

x-x-x-x-x

So all Angela could do was observe, powerless and anxious. There wasn’t long for her to wait, though. 

Moira’s calmness was overwhelming to her. The blonde had rested her head on Moira’s stomach, staring up at her as she sat up in the bed, pillow against the headboard, reading in the lamplight. The yellow glow made her appear monochrome, muting her bright hair to match the pale palette of the sheets and her skin. She took a sip of her tea, then turned the page.

Angela’s mind was racing. She couldn’t seem to stop. Why did she have so much dread about this mission? How was it different than any other? Even those over which she had no control had never paralyzed her like this before.

“Angela.”

Angela almost jumped as Moira suddenly spoke. Her eyes widened as she looked up. Moira’s strange eyes gazed back, impossibly steady.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The blonde blinked several times, then sat up, causing Moira to unfold her arms. “What do you mean….? I’m right here.”

“I expected you to question me right away. You always want to know what’s going on. But you haven’t mentioned it at all.”

Angela looked down. Her lights flickered like their bulbs were about to burn out. “I just….didn’t want to pressure you.”

Moira sighed almost imperceptibly, then set down her book. Why did Angela ever try to deceive anyone? “Hey.” Her voice was low but incredibly soft. She knew Angela was trying to conceal a true anguish. Anytime she perceived that from her, it made her want to scowl. A feeling that was almost disgust pooled in her throat. It wasn’t at Angela’s reaction as much as she felt from deep within that Angela shouldn’t ever have to feel that way.

The best way to calm her was to quietly convince her of the truth, and Moira knew her that well by now. Nothing over the top or shallow could work on Angela’s deep-rooted sentiments. These things just made her lodge the sword deeper inside her stomach so she could better conceal the shape of the hilt under her shirt. Her smile would appear on her face again, and the shaken portion of her would be unreachable.

“I know you’re distressed about this. Is there anything I can do to help ease your nerves?”

“Please just be level with me….I don’t know anything about what’s going on.”

Moira exhaled and shut her eyes for a long moment, collecting the ghosts into one place as much as she could. Her voice was still low and soft. “If I’m being honest, things aren’t as they seem. Something bigger is boiling under both the banner of Overwatch and of Talon. And someone has to go figure it out.”

Angela bit her lip, feeling the familiar sting behind her eyelids. She knew her foreboding wasn’t misplaced. There was something strange about that explosion. About the state of the conflict. Her mind seemed to submerge itself in ink. 

Moira saw the tears and the infinite weight dropping onto Angela, then pressed her lips together. She shuffled, sitting up more against her pillow, then wrapped her arms around the other and pulled her onto her lap. “I know you’re so tired....I’m tired too. It’s a war of attrition.” Her voice was of a quality Angela hadn’t heard from her before. It was incredibly vulnerable.

Angela rested her face on Moira’s shoulder, and after a moment Moira could feel the tears soaking through her shirt. She brushed her fingers through the silk of Angela’s hair. Someone had to go. And this time it couldn’t be the great Dr. Ziegler.

Moira was a more fitting choice. Beyond her reputation, anyway. While Angela glowed a bright platinum, she was made out of grittier stuff, not polished or stainless. She didn’t have to spend her time wiping away the fingerprints, just ensuring the marks were not rust. And Overwatch had made it clear. They could not afford to lose Angela in such an operation. Moira was more disposable. Anyways, Moira would never allow for it. With what she’d already given for Angela, her fear for herself had long ago dissolved. But this time it was higher stakes, so she couldn’t conspire with her.

“Hush….” She began to whisper. “ _Seoithín, seo hó, mo stór é, mo leanbh. Mo sheoid gan cealg…._ ” _(*)_ The nursery rhymes always felt silly tumbling from her mouth, but they calmed Angela like nothing else. Her fingers traced Angela’s spine, and she gradually felt the other’s breath slow its pace.

x-x-x-x-x

“Dr. Ziegler, I beg your pardon, but I know it’s functioning properly.” Moira almost smirked as the great doctor circled her for what may have been the twelfth time. She knew every time Angela examined the gauntlets on her hands, not only was she finding an excuse to grasp Moira’s hand again, but she was hoping to find some dysfunction that could cause her to demand a delay on the mission. She checked and rechecked the flow through her devices, asking Moira to switch hands multiple times. But everything was working perfectly. 

As Angela checked the gauntlet once again, Moira grasped Angela’s hand and brushed her thumb across her palm, then brought her face close to the other’s face. “You need to check the others now.” Her voice was not particularly soft, but her gaze held Angela suspended for a moment, and her touch was gentle.

By the time Angela finished her last checks on Genji’s status, the preparation of the transport had been completed. She followed as the members of Blackwatch approached the ship. Moira stood back a moment, letting the others pass her.

“Angela.”

They stepped out of the others’ line of sight, and Moira bent to Angela’s level. Angela, without responding, wrapped her arms around her neck. She rose to the tips of her toes, then kissed her. The tall doctor was somewhat startled by Angela’s sudden passionate gesture. She kissed her back, holding her face in her hand.

“Be careful, ok….?” Angela broke away but watched her eyes closely, as if she were watching the approaching wave that was poised to sweep her away.

“I will.” Moira smirked but her gaze was earnest. “Got to take care of the boys.” She ignored how her hands were tied with twine. She ignored how the demons kept interrupting as they amassed tinder at her feet. What an impolite clatter. “But most of all, I will for you.” Then she laughed. “Martyrdom is not my _thing_.”

x-x-x-x-x

The nerves did not come to her in the morning, nor while the plane was in flight. But once they descended the ship, they hit her all at once.

As Moira landed, she muttered:  
_“A light is shining but the distant star_  
_From which it still comes to me has been dead_  
_A thousand years [....]_  
_Beneath the sky's vast dome I long to pray ..._  
_Of all the stars there must be far away_  
_A single star which still exists apart._  
_And I believe that I should know the one_  
_Which has alone endured and which alone_  
_Like a white City that all space commands_  
_At the ray's end in the high heaven stands."_ _(**)_

x-x-x-x-x

When Angela heard the news, her knees completely melted beneath her, sending her crumbling to the ground. She’d barely seen Moira since the transport returned them. She’d heard the outcry over the events. But strangely, what she cared most about was secure. Never before had the events concerning Overwatch seemed so irrelevant to her.  
_She’d come back._  
But as soon as the relief had given her respite from her suffocating terror and allowed her to go about her day, it was taken away. By the end of the day, before Angela could return home to see her, Moira had disappeared. She had given a brief statement, but before they had been able to interview her further, she was gone.

The talk bubbled up, rattling the kettle, threatening to blow its top.  
_Moira’s behind this. Moira sabotaged us! She pretended all along to be our ally._  
_Maybe she leaked secrets! They found connections between her and Talon, you know._  
Angela was only able to slowly shake her head. The voices of these people seemed hungry for the intrigue, almost proud of their accusations. The more outrageous, the better. And thus, people avoided Angela. She was a stone around which the currents of the river diverged to continue flowing. If they looked at her at all it was out of a morbid pity. The ink overflowed, and even as she opened her eyes, Angela could only see the dark shapes of ink stains. She felt like she was levitating off the ground, cotton gathering in her eyes and ears.

In order to maintain her image in the midst of this information (from where and with what proof, she had no clue), she had to communicate her shock but feign contempt. She had to formulate this disgust, fabricate this huge regret. But what she felt in her heart was a deep despair, and her body screamed to curl itself up in grief.

When she could, she retreated to an empty exam room, then allowed herself to lean against the wall and try to catch her breath. The darkness swirled around her. She wasn’t able to flutter her wings to escape this time. She was nearly hyperventilating, so she wasn’t able to take a breath before she careened into the dark wall of despair. She fought. She couldn’t accept it. She wasn’t sure if she could ever let darkness swallow her, even though she saw it swallow so many others around her. _What could have happened? Where did she go….? She said she’d be careful. Was it all a lie?_

Her pretty eyes glanced down to her uniform pocket. The object within weighed on her. She always kept it to fiddle between her fingers to ease the usual work anxieties, but in this moment it was at the forefront of her mind. She pulled it out. It was a compact mirror, a gift from Moira a while ago now. It had been entirely unexpected and of an aesthetic different than what she expected from her. It was rather aged, with golden leaf around it, scratched at places. Roses were embossed on the back. It was beautiful. As Angela had unwrapped it, she was strangely speechless, a reaction which she remembered unsettled Moira. Angela had to reassure her. She had simply not expected such a….romantic object from her. It was unprecedented.

Angela unclasped it with her thumb, then watched as her face reflected back up to her. Even through her outward façade, her eyes were rather swollen. Her image was obscured as the tears welled up again, then trailed down her face. She remembered Moira’s bashful stature as she presented this gift. She remembered the rare times when her voice fell soft. The nursery rhymes Angela requested. Moira was who she would seek out if a patient didn’t make it. Angela never grew so steely that she didn’t cry when that occurred. And Moira would hold her. She understood, but could provide her with reasonable perspective. _Was this all a lie?_

Angela fiddled with the mirror as she always did to dispel anxiety, but this time out of the pocket. She brought her thumb across it, thinking of the good. But then the gossip drifted back to her. The contempt in the voices. These people never respected Moira at all. _But what if they had been correct all along?_ She was fidgeting more and more rapidly. _Could it be true? Could she have pretended? This whole. Time._

She heard a loud crack, jolting her back to herself like the shock of a defibrillator. Her hand lay in her gaze, now empty. Without realizing it, she had snapped the mirror sideways as she panicked, launching it to the side. It had hit the floor diagonally, shattering the glass inside it. The shards tried to reflect her image back to her, but she was lost in the many angles. “....no!” Angela sobbed, slamming herself against the wall. 

It took several minutes for her to recover. Another beautiful thing, unexpected and with unknown provenance (but that was part of the admiration), destroyed without warning. Angela wanted to scream. She wanted to tumble to the ground and kick her legs. _Hadn't she been through enough? And all for what? What was any of this for? Couldn't she be selfish for one singular time in her life?_ But there was no time or space for her to burst into hysterics. They needed her here more than ever. So, using much effort she opened the door and took a step outside. But then she paused and turned, bending dejectedly to grasp the warped compact, leaving the glass strewn across the floor.

x-x-x-x-x

But after she returned to her room, completely numb and tight in the chest, Angela noticed a strange note folded on her pillow. She unfolded it with shaking hands. On it was Moira’s thin, slanted handwriting. Her heart wrenched itself over, then clattered to the floor. 

_[ Trust me, Angela._

 

_I know it’s hard right now._

_But please_

 

 

_Trust me.]_

**Author's Note:**

> _Seven years bad luck._
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I would only consider this "canon compliant" if Moira does in fact leave in such a manner. From what we've been given in Blackwatch Archives, I don't personally see any reason to think she had done anything yet to indicate her switch in status.  
>  
> 
> *A fragment of a Gaelic nursery rhyme: Seoithín, Seo Hó
> 
> **A portion of Rainer Maria Rilke's _Lament_. The Oscar Wilde quotes she says at the telescope remind me of it.
> 
>  
> 
> (Could be considered a prequel to "Together" by Multikicker)


End file.
